


he came in for a haircut

by younggod



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, or hopefully it isnt, this sounds really fucked up but its not as fucked up as it seems ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/younggod/pseuds/younggod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"stuff happens in really weird ways. you meet people, sometimes in coffee shops, sometimes in hair salons when you're roomate and best friend who usually does you're hair is in another country and you need a trim really badly"<br/>✄  could be triggering<br/>✄  kinda has a weird update schedule at the moment<br/>✄ also on wattpad</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. an encounter

Luke’s upset, to be quite honest. Well actually no, no, no, he’s not upset. He’s just nervous. Anxious maybe? Somewhere in between most likely if that’s a possible thing. It all gets a bit lost in translation of running his hands through his hair and tapping his foot and trying to distract himself from his feelings and focus on his work as much as possible right now.

He’s a senior which means the pressure is so on for him to figure out what he’s going to do with the rest of his life which you'd imagine wouldn't be an issue if you’d have looked at his grades. But, unfortunately, grades can’t come alive to make mass life decisions for you (if they did though, Luke would be highly appreciative of it). There’s seemingly endless amounts of homework packets to fill out and chapters to read and pop quizzes scattered about to help gear up for future tests.

He knows he’s not bad at school, the words don’t usually go through one of his ears and then out the other and the numbers add up and make sense, and there’s a small voice in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn’t worry and that he’ll be fine. However there’s also another little voice that tells him to worry and if he messes up everything’s going to crumble and that voice tends to be louder than the more optimistic and nice one.

Luke kind of just wants school to be over with but then he has to go to college and he’s so not ready for that. He still stresses himself out to the point where he can’t absorb any information sometimes and is pretty reliant on his best friend so he’s not sure if he’s ready for absolute financial debt and mental inhalation in college; not that he isn’t already getting that from highschool.

Alright, if Luke wasn’t anxious before, he sure is now because fuck his mid-terms are in like a month and he has to do well on them or else his end of the year tests are going to have more material. If he doesn't ace those then there goes any college chances and just...yeah, he doesn't want to think about that anymore.

So he goes back to digging his nose into his textbook and trying to retain the information whilst chasing away his blurry vision. 

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Now Michael, Michael's upset. Because it's five pm on a Saturday and he woke up late which means he's most likely going to be late for work. Not only that but it's raining which is an issue because he just dyed his hair red which everyone knows fades like a bitch. Also, what the fuck, why is it raining in March? Isn't it supposed to be, like, dirty snowing or something? Something that's not rain?

Plus its warm in his apartment and even warmer in his bed and, well, long-ish story short, going from Michael’s cozy apartment to rainy, kind-of winter, “I’m probably going to get hypothermia and die” in New York is definitely not the most fun thing ever. He’d say he’d rather be castrated than go outside but that’s probably a bit extreme. Plus, the weather could probably do it for him if he was out there long enough.

The red head gives up after a solid twenty minutes of getting ready, finally coming to terms with the fact that his hair is just not going to work with him today, before literally running out of his apartment and almost falling and eating shit (not in the literal sense though because everyone knows that if you had an animal in the apartment complex Michael lives in, you'd get absolutely murdered).

In this moment, the 21 year old is over the moon about living right across the street from the salon he works at. He rushes through the door when the clock's at 5:24 and he thinks fuck yes I made it with six minutes to spare. Michael's first appointment - seemingly only appointment if the schedule for that Saturday stays the same - is in about fifteen minutes, leaving him just enough time to set up and maybe even blast an All Time Low song whilst he's at it. Scratch that; definitely blast an All Time Low song.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

He can feel his chest tightening though, his lungs giving that feeling of maybe collapsing - he's not quite sure - oh, yeah, there goes his vision too. Luke’s trying to just burn don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s okay into his brain like he has been for the past twenty or so minutes. He’s a mess and has been for a while now and it’s just inconvenient and frustrating and pretty scary considering his panic attacks feel like death.

He really, really doesn't want to feel like this considering he's alone for another four days and has to go out in about twenty minutes to get a haircut.

Wait. Shit, okay, he needs to go now or else he'll be late.

So now the blonde boy is rushing out the door in one of his black jackets, a maroon snapback that came from god-knows-where with a random band tee plus his signature skinny jeans that he may or may not have definitely slept in the night before. Hey, shut up, high school is difficult okay. No judgment, asshole. 

He's quite thankful for his choice of a snapback today because even though it more than likely makes him look like a douche bag it’ll keep him moderately dry from the rain and Luke mentally pats himself on the back for it as he flags down a cab. He's also quite thankful for only living a couple of blocks down from the hair salon that Ashton works at and he attends because that means it won’t cost a lot to travel. Let's be real, when you're a high school student living in New York City with your hair dresser best friend trying not to tap into your emergency fund, you don't really have all the money in the world. 

However Luke is not thankful that today Ashton isn't cutting his hair. It's Ashton's friend/coworker/person...Mitchell? Michael? Yeah, Michael. Luke doesn't know much about Michael, to be honest. All he really knows is his name, how he and Ashton met, where he works and that he changes his hair a lot. As in at least once a month. But he hangs out with Ashton, he's friends with Ashton. How horrible could he be?


	2. we'll laugh until our ribs get tough

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Michael goes through the normal day-to-day process of setting up; making sure the mirrors are clean, organizing his scissors, trimmers, clippers, sheers, combs, etcetera, etcetera. Just little things like that which take next to no time.

Before Michael knows it, he’s kicking back in the chair behind the register listening to Stella for roughly the 158th time this month. He runs a hand through his dyed hair with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. Michael thinks about his current situation - a twenty-one year old, kinda punk rock Australian working at a hair salon in New York City thanks to a lovely scholarship program - letting out something between a scoff and a chuckle because holy shit is it so damn cliche. 

But it’s nice.

It’s nice to have a little apartment that’s not too hard to pay for in new York city, working basically his dream job that compensates pretty well. It’s nice to play around on his acoustic when he’s home at three am. It’s nice to not have to worry about bothering roommates. Sure it gets lonely sometimes but it’s probably one of the least of Michael’s concerns. 

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Luke’s almost given up on not being anxious. He tried to remember everything he could about Michael - how he looked, how he talked, how he dressed, for fucks sake even how he moved - which freaked him out even more.

Now, Luke is wringing his hands in the back of a taxi cab roughly five minutes away from his destination. He’s thinking about the size of Michael's hands and how close if not slightly bigger they are to Luke’s and the blonde really feels that Michael could do a lot of damage with them.

Before Luke knows it he’s slipping out of the cab, sliding the driver about ten dollars telling him to keep whatever change there is (which there most definitely is).

The boy’s blue eyes have quite a few tears in them so Luke reminds himself to get it together because as frightening as Michael may be, he’s pretty cute. Usually, Luke prefers his first(ish) impression on cute people to be not him crying in front of their work place. But, like, no big deal if it happens.

Kidding.

Very big deal if it happens. As in Luke just might lay face down on the ground hoping he goes chameleon and completely blends in with the city sidewalk so no one, especially Michael, can see him. 

The eighteen year old wipes his eyes quickly as he tries to calm down and reason with himself. ‘Cause Luke, dude, it’s highly unlikely that the guy cutting your hair who’s friends with Ashton is going to hit you during your first encounter. Or any of them, hopefully.

He breathes deeply whilst playing with the hem of his shirt before taking his hat off, pushing the door open and walking in.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Mr. dyed-hair Michael Clifford is yanked from his thoughts when the bell near the door ring, signaling someone was here. He lifts his head and opens his eyes to see an ever so slightly familiar blonde boy. An ever so slightly familiar blonde boy who looks like he’s going to pass out at any minute or die right there on the spot. His hair is a little messy and his eyes look watery and a little red and Michael feels like he saw him wiping his face outside moments ago from the corner of his eye but he doesn’t question the boy about it because he looks wrecked enough.

The familiar boy in front of him spoke in a soft an tone, “I, uh, have appointment. it should be under Luke Hemmings? I’m friends with Ashton, Ashton Irwin, he works here but he’s on break and he usually does my hair but he can’t ‘cause he’s back at home in Austr-…I’m rambling, ugh, I’m s-“

“Hey man, it’s fine, no big deal. Plus, you’re Ashton’s roommate right? You know how he never shuts the fuck up. I work with him so I get that on a daily basis so I’m pretty used to it.” Michael flashes the kid – Luke – a smile as he hunches over the computer, editing the schedule. “What’re you thinking of doing with your hair today?”

“I’m just gonna get a trim if that works.” Luke was looking just about everywhere except michael and at the moment it appeared he currently found the ceiling very intriguing

"As long as you don’t ask me for a ‘complete makeover’ or a ‘surprise’ I think I’ll manage.” It might have sounded a little joking but there were definitely serious undertones to it considering whenever someone asks Michael do that he literally has to go to the backroom and take a two minute break. In other words, never ask your hairstylist to do that. They might kill you or kill your hair. Or both.

“Just follow me.” he waves Luke over to the shampoo stations because Michael still finds it impossible to do a picture-perfect trim on dry hair and he’s kind of a perfectionist so doing this nice boy’s hair dry and imperfect is not going to fly.

As he’s getting a bottle of shampoo he’s pretty sure he sees Luke trip out of the corner of his eye but he decides not to mention that either because Michael’s not particularly a person to kick someone when they’re down – no pun intended. 

Michael turns the water on and adjusts the temperature so he doesn’t scald the blonde or make it feel like he’s dumping melted snow on Luke’s hair. Whenever Michael sees a fellow hairdresser’s client flinch away due to the temperature of the water he kind of wants to smack them because, yes, the faster things go, the better, but it takes literally ten seconds at most to get the temperature of water right. Like, your job is to make their hair look at least half way decent not to get them third degree burns.

He rolls his eyes and discards the thought as he runs his hands through Luke’s short hair and, oh my God, Michael almost cheers out-loud because Luke actually takes care of his hair. Granted, Luke hasn’t quite got the right conditioner, but he knows how to keep the frizz down and knows how to actually keep it clean. Michael thinks Luke might have just become his favourite client even if he’s just a temporary one.

It’s quiet for a while due to Michael being way too into washing Luke’s hair that isn’t seventy-five percent absolutely dead but the sound of his client’s voice breaks through.

“So, you like All Time Low?” Luke’s blue eyes were alternating between shutting and looking everywhere except Michael “or, at least, judging by the amount of times something that’s not All Time Low has played; which has been no times at all so far.”

He’s kind of surprised that Luke starts up conversation first. Michael can only recall Luke ever giving him a few glances or soft words and besides that, he’s really gotten nothing from him. The only person he’s really ever seen him talk talk to is to Ashton, but this is a pretty nice change.

The red head chuckles and nods his head, “Yeah...I guess you could say that. They’ve had a big impact on my life. Started playing guitar and doing a little bit of singing ‘cause of Alex.” He smiles wide at the thought. he remembers when he got his first electric guitar – a Gibson Melody Maker DC Joan Jett Signature Custom – and never putting it down since because every time he picked it up he could have sworn he felt sparks as silly and strange as that sounds.

"You would be such an all time low guy. but, Stella, really? I thought you’d be more of a Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don’t) person.”

Michael rolls his eyes in the sarcastic way that he does, “Yeah sure, and what’s your favourite song of theirs? I’d put money down on Jasey Rae.”

“Nope. Somewhere in Neverland.”

If Michael hadn’t had his soapy hands in Luke’s hair, he would have thrown them up playfully. “Well, fuck, looks like we’re both defying peoples assumptions when it comes to our music taste. Even though I do see vague undertones of Somewhere in Neverland in you.”

He locks eyes with Luke for a quick second before Luke looks away but Michael was pretty sure he saw a smile and some happiness in those blue orbs. Which, yeah, makes him a little bit over the moon because he much prefers to see this kid happy instead of trying to secretly cry outside the shop.

The two spend the rest of the appointment conversing over what album was better and whether it was the right thing to do when they were on set and wanted toast so Alex and Jack took an empty spray can and a lighter and put the toast on a hanger and just lit it on fire basically. Michael had said, Yes, it was the right thing to do and he may or may not have done it himself and Luke laughed so hard he surged forward and almost lost three inches of fringe. They talk about All Time Low’s Straight to DVD movie and how Michael was in the crowd which that takes up a solid thirty minutes of conversation at least and Michael thinks he’s never seen anyone as fascinated by his concert experience than Luke is right now.

 

And, yeah.

That means a lot to Michael.


	3. it's too cold outside

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

There’s a click and the heat blasting Luke in the face whilst being incredibly loud is gone which is nice because, Dear God, does Michael have some really powerful and loud hairdryers. Luke feels a brush going through his hair before opening his eyes, spotting Michael unplugging the chord to one of his nine hundred hairdryers – okay, okay, it’s more like seven but he still has a lot.

Luke stares ahead, eyeing himself up and down in the mirror. Michael mumbles out a “You can touch it, it’s not gonna bite your hand off” and Luke thinks he heard a slight smile in his voice.

His mouth parts open slightly as he turns his head and cards his fingers through his hair, examining as much as he can because it’s different from how Ashton cuts it, a good different, but he can’t figure out what it is. The hair is a little more clean-cut, more sharp and defined, than the usual style which doesn’t have much shape and kind of just flops and poofs and can be unbelievably aggravating in windy New York City.

“So, do you like it?” Michael stands behind him, leaning on his broom looking like kind of an asshole and smirking a little at Luke in the mirror.

“Ah, yeah. I do. You might’ve even done a better job than ash.” Luke clears his throat and his hands go down so he can wipe his semi-sweaty palms on his jeans. Luke’s kind of okay with his body usually but goddamn did he have to get such sweaty gross hands when he’s all anxious and what not. Like, hey hello it already feels like my chest is caving in and I’m going to faint and/or cry at any given time do I really have to have clammy hands too? For fucks sake.

He shuffles his feet a little before grabbing his snapback and places it on his head, adjusting it to his liking that proves to be a little tricky because there’s new elements to his current look that he’s never had but it’s definitely a minimal issue. A moment later, his old-as-shit black Chuck Taylors carry him over to the counter and Michael soon follows and plops down in his chair pushing himself over to the computer.

“Alright, your total will be nineteen dollars and seventy-three cents.”

Luke nods and starts digging through his jacket pockets. he makes a mental note to clean out his pockets and what not when he gets home considering he’s pretty sure they are equivalent to some women’s, or maybe even men’s, purse right now – aka absolutely trashed.

After digging around in his pockets for what feels like eight billion years but was probably less than forty-five seconds, Luke gives up on trying to find change and puts a twenty dollar bill on the counter hoping and praying Michael doesn’t think he’s an idiot for taking ages to pull out one bill.

“You can keep the change, sorry.” Luke slightly mumbles as he pushes the bill forward a little before thinking that he probably looks even sillier now and how he’s probably just digging a ditch way deeper for himself. He really starts to believe it when Michael raises an eyebrow at him and Luke starts wringing his hands because he’s so scared something bad is about to happen.

But then Michael smiles at him and chuckles a little, “What are you sorry for? I’m not gonna be upset over you giving me more money, honestly who would get upset over that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Letting people keep change has kind of been my thing lately.” He giggles a little, letting out a breath of relief because his anxiety ridden mind was wrong and everything is at least peaceful right now. “Thank you; for the haircut.”

“Just doing my job,” Michael shrugs his shoulders as he smiles down at Luke due to the few inch difference between the two.

They kind of just stand there for a solid minute or two, looking at each other. Luke makes notes in his mind of how many visible tattoos Michael has and how he stands and the different kinds of smiles he’s seen from the red head today. That is, until Luke realizes how odd the situation seems and clears his throat.

“I’m, uh, gonna go now.”

“Well, I hope you grace me with your presence again considering we only really covered Don’t Panic and Straight to DVD today”

Luke smiles wide and feels a little bit flustered but tries to reply without messing up his words, I will. Probably. Most likely. Ashton does work here so I stop by once and a while. Hopefully.”

Alright, so not messing up his words goes out the window because Luke just radiates awkward. Then, the blonde is pushing the door open and stepping out into chilly march New York City air.

Luke thinks, in the back of his mind, that he’s almost shared too much with Michael. Like he let him in too easily. He knows that he’ll probably panic and cry about it later and hate himself and maybe not even be able to get up tomorrow over how anxious he’ll be about it. But right now Luke doesn’t have time to think about that because it’s cold outside and he has to hail a cab to get home.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

It’s around half past eight when Michael finally leaves. Apparently, he had been wrong when he guessed that the only customer he’d be getting that day would be the blue-eyed boy with the lip ring. He huffs, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking down to the next block to catch a cab considering once it hits about eight at night the road his workplace is on is usually dead so not many taxis drive around.

Luckily Michael is fucking great at hailing down cabs after living in such a large city for a god-awful amount of time and manages to get one literally twenty seconds after putting his hand up. He slides into the backseat, pulling out nine dollars and handing it to the driver who raises an eyebrow at him.

“Gotta go to Talkhouse. Y’know, the bar on 1975th street? Also, don’t even think about overcharging me. I’ve been going there regularly for over a year and it costs eight twenty-five to get there but you guys really love adding tax so then it comes up to about eight eighty-five and I give you lot nine and tell you to keep the change. Aight?” Michael rambles out.

The driver smirks and takes the money, nodding before starting to drive. Michael relaxes back into the seat, tapping his foot slightly and watching rain hit the car.

This would usually be the moment where Michael goes wow, fuck me sideways, I am so stressed and have no idea what my life is doing or what it’s going to do in the future oh my god why but right now Michael kind of has his life in order. Kind of. He’s working on it, okay. He isn’t really financially unstable or confused over his sexuality and he has a pretty solid idea about his future.

Michael likes the idea of settling down with someone whether its back home in Australia or in New York or anywhere else in the world really. He likes thinking about continuing his career as a hairstylist and moving up and up until maybe he could even do hair for films and modeling and just getting well-known and better at what he loves.

Soon Michael sees the bar come into view and the cab stops. he shoots the driver a small smile before getting out of the car because honestly that was not the best smelling cab Michael’s ever been in. like, seriously, can someone please teach that driver the correct amount of cologne to use? But he’s kind of whatever about it considering that guy didn’t give Michael shit for his pre-pay thing that he does.

His thoughts stop and kind of just wash away when he walks into the building. There’s noises of glasses knocking and the faint murmur of a song Michael can’t identify and different bits of sober and drunk conversations flow to his ears when he makes his way over to the actual bar itself. Now, he’s not particularly planning on getting smashed tonight but he would like some kind of alcohol soon so when a familiar shorter man with dark curly hair makes his way to Michael, he’s pretty content.

“Well fuck me, Michael’s finally back after goddamn ages.” The man stood in front him exclaims before turning his head and shooting back, “Hey, Adam! Looks like Ross owes you a twenty!”

Michael bites his lip to hide his smile, shaking his head. Of course there would be bets on when he’d be back or if he’d be back at all.

“You don’t show up at your friend’s bar for a month and he acts like it’s been a decade. But, in all seriousness, it’s nice to see you again, Matty.”

“In our defense,” The Brit states, twirling and pointing the glass he just finished cleaning at Michael, ”when two regulars get into a bar fight usually neither of them come back, regardless of their relationship with the owner. But it’s whatever, at least you’re back.” 

“Good points. Now can you get me some liquor? Please? Just the usual for when I don’t want to get so drunk I think I can fly.”

“Aye, George! Get an Au Bord De La Mer, a 102 and take over for me for a little, yeah?” Matty says, looking to the side at a tall, broad, blonde man that Michael would definitely not want to get into a fight with during any point in his life – literally God forbid – who nods and smiles their way. Though, the smile he sports makes him look friendlier and Michael knows he’s really just a ball of kindness.

After a few moments their drinks arrive and Michael almost makes grabby hands at his. He’s not some raging alcoholic or someone who can’t live without it, it’s just he hasn’t had anything made by one of the boys who works at Talkhouse and there’s really nothing quite like their alcohol. Especially when it’s not made to get you wasted.

“So, Mike, what’ve you been up to? You been shagging about or anything of the sort?” The shorter boy questions Michael, sipping on his drink which is basically some kind of glorified red wine.

“One-night stands aren’t exactly my strong suit, so no. had a real wild day at work though.” Michael chuckles a little, which rings through his glass, thinking about the last one-night stand he had where the person had decided they wanted to light some candles that he ended up knocking over and setting a blanket on fire. Yeah, he had to pay for that damage and apparently blankets run pricey.

“See, now you gotta tell me more. I’m intrigued. Can’t just leave me hanging.”

“I guess I had some sorta sign painted on me that was like, ‘I’m doing walk-ins today even though they’re the worst thing in the world and I almost never do them’. Had two of ‘em today. One older woman who wanted like, 12 inches off of her hair and one younger girl – think she said her name was Chrissy – who wanted a dye job. The dye job actually turned out fan-fucking-tastic if I do say so myself.” Michael goes to take another drink until he remembers probably the most important person he saw today causing him to slightly slam the glass down back onto the bar, “Oh! And I met Ashton’s roommate. Like, actually properly met him. Talking and all.”

“Little blondie? What was he like? Was he as dreamy or whatever as some of the girls from his neighborhood who come in here say? Is he some vapid asshole? How’d you get him to talk?”

“Yes, blondie. I don’t know I mean, he likes All Time Low? We didn’t exactly dive into our deep dark pasts. And how am I supposed to know if he’s really that dreamy or not? Seemed like a nice kid, though. Also, honestly, I’m not really sure how I got him to talk. He kinda just started conversation.” Michael shrugs as Matty motions over for George to refill his drink. Michael truly didn’t know that much about Luke. If you’ve never realized, you can’t exactly learn much about a person from a forty-five minute-ish haircut.

“Sounds like an alright person. Sounds like your type of person. All Time Low lover? More like Michael’s soul-mate. You’ll get along perfectly.” Matty jokes, shoving Michael’s arm gently.

“Sure hope so. Kinda have to see him again to teach him how to properly condition his hair.”


	4. i dont want to wake up in the morning but i've gotta face the day

When Luke steps into his apartment he’s torn between relishing in how pleased he is with himself and how well he did with Michael today, which wasn’t spectacular but it was a start, and keeling over and dying because it took an obscene amount of emotional energy. He ends up deciding on neither and just takes five minutes to not be panicking or anything of the sort.

Letting out a huff of breath, he looks around the space he and Ashton live in, given Ashton isn’t in Australia. It’s not small per say, but it’s not super big either which is okay considering there are only two people living in there despite his roommates jokes about there basically being three because whenever Luke is home it looks like a tornado went through the place. Though there are a few things Luke could do without like the leaky sink that raises their water bill or the spring sticking out of their couch that tends to stab people in the lower back.

He’ll bring up to Ashton how they could get both things fixed if he just picked up a few dye jobs at the salon but the older boy is quick to remind Luke of the time he went pastel pink for a month – or tried to – and how Luke doesn’t want that to happen again whether it’s to Ashton or someone else. Which, no, no Luke doesn’t.

He remembers being fifteen and Ashton deciding to do some wild Alex Gaskarth shit and try to dye part of his hair light pink but his hand slipping and ending up with an entire head of pink hair. Like, very not pastel pink. Bright, fluorescent, “Hey, asshole you didn’t need to dye your hair that bright like you’re a solid twenty feet away from me and it’s ten at night and I can still see you” pink. It was a nice change in that period of his life though and he definitely doesn’t wish it never happened.

By the time Monday morning rolls around, Luke wakes up with dried-out, blotchy cheeks from the night before, as much knowledge as he could get out of the nineteen hours he did of studying over the weekend and seven missed calls from Ashton. So, a typical Monday morning only minus Ashton’s whistling and the smell of slightly undercooked toast or vaguely burnt coffee.

Eventually Luke drags himself out of bed and begins the morning routine of getting dressed, brushing his teeth, checking his backpack and folders four to six times to make sure he has all of his assignments and textbooks, etcetera, etcetera. Tugging his skinny jeans on he still feels quite drowsy and almost falls face first into his breakfast and Luke can almost hear his curly haired roommate slightly scolding him in the back of his head.

He’d say that Luke “needs to take better care of himself” and that “three to five hours of sleep is really not enough, y’know?” and probably how it’s “pretty damn unhealthy”. And Luke knows that, he’s aware it’s horrible to stress all day and stay up until four studying or perfecting his essay or just panicking over what the next day will bring. It’s quite shit for both him and Ashton who’s enough of an angel to wake up and keep him company whilst he’s writing and rub his back when he can’t breathe at four in the morning like it’s some kind of sixth sense or internal clock he has.

 

However he feels more awake than he has in his entire life when he steps outside into the Artic – wait, sorry – New York cold air; though cold is the biggest understatement ever. After ten minutes of walking to school because all the taxis were taken due to rush hour, Luke thinks it should be multiple kinds of illegal to not specify how cold it is outside on the weather channel. Like, please do not say it’s just cold out when in reality it is thirteen degrees and people who have balls are too close to freezing them off for comfort.

Going from an empty apartment to the crowded hallways of Harrison High School, or HHS as everyone likes to call it because Harrison High School just sounds so painfully cliché, is definitely a shocking environment change. The energy around Luke goes from just his to his and a couple hundred others give or take and the volume change is just annoying at this point; though in the beginning it was absolutely horrifying, now Luke’s just tired of hearing about people’s sex lives, drug addictions and parental problems.

However Luke really enjoys not getting pushed around in the sea of people or slammed up against the mahogany polished lockers with brand new locks that really hurt when pressed against your spine. Though, those things probably don’t happen anymore because the first time multiple people pushed past him on the way to class he started panicking or how when he first got bullied he started sobbing and crying for Ashton and begging the person to just stop. Not much about that was nice but it does bring some comfort that he’s not going to get trampled over or get into some wild unsafe situation at school which is already distressing enough.

The school day ends up being a blur of long lessons and math equations and surprisingly only three sheets of homework which is great even though there was an extreme lack of Calum, Luke’s best and basically only friend, making the day off and overly quiet but it’s kind of all okay in the end. Once Luke steps outside he realizes it’s gotten warmer, almost abnormally so but he blames that on global warming but he’s also a bit thankful because now he doesn’t feel like he’s risking hypothermia by walking home.

About half way home Luke’s phone starts ringing which means Alex’s high note in Something’s Gotta Give is played way too loud for a public situation and Luke almost drops his phone when fumbling to get it out of his pocket.

“Hello?” Luke huffs out into the phone and hunches his shoulders a bit, pulling them closer to him as he continues walking through chilly downtown.

A familiar Australian voice that seems to be laced with positivity twenty-four-seven pipes up from the side of the line, “Finally you pick up! Only took, like, a hundred and one phone calls. How’ve you been holding up?”

“Hey, Ashton. Pretty sure it was only seven and my phone seems to agree with that, but okay. And I’m fine. Don’t worry too much”

“What’s your definition of fine? How many panic attacks have you had?”

The corner of Luke’s mouth tilt down and he almost stops in the middle of the street because he doesn’t want Ashton to have to deal with his problems like usual but he know he’ll just push it until Luke eventually tells him. “Maybe six or seven. ‘S fine. Better than before; I’m trying.”

There’s a long pause and Luke knows Ashton’s probably kicking himself a bit, telling himself how he could have prevented it even though there’s nothing he could have done really. Luke hates this. He’s okay with his mental illnesses affecting him for some odd reason but he’s not okay when it starts going after the good people in his life because no, they shouldn’t have to deal with that they shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of hurt or any kind of hurt really; they’re too good for that.

 

“I’m sorry. But…you are right. It’s better than before and I’m really proud of you. You know that right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Luke laughs a bit because, honestly, how could he not know?

“Good. So, how was school? Do you have a lot of homework?” There’s some shuffling on the other line before Ashton continues, “More importantly, how was the haircut?”

“School was okay, Cal wasn’t there today though so it was kinda uneventful and I only have a few pages of homework. And, uh, the haircut went okay. I didn’t cry or anything while I was there, or at least not in front of Michael – who’s actually pretty nice – and I initiated the conversation. Also, did you know your coworker has kissed Jack fucking Barakat or?”

“Jesus, Luke. When you told me you were doing better I wasn’t expecting you to do that much better. That’s, just, that’s amazing.” Ashton’s smiling and Luke can hear it in his voice and it’s almost like Luke can feel the vibes of probably literal sunshine Ashton gives off all the way from Australia. “And yes, I was aware that Michael may or may not have low-key made out with All Time Low’s guitarist.”

A few more bits of conversation and Luke finally arrives at their apartment building and Ashton sounds exhausted as hell.

“Ash, do you need me to let you go? I just got home anyways so it’s totally okay if-“

“No, no I’m good. I have to be on my flight in five hours anyways; it’s just super fucking early. Can I stay on the phone with you though until I have to go because the kids already left for school and I’m not really sure what I can do to kill five or so hours. Plus, if you need homework help I’d be available right away.”

“Sure thing.” Luke shrugs even though he knows the other boy can’t see him. It’s nice having Ashton just on the phone because it gives him a feeling of not being alone in an apartment that’s too small for more than two people but too big for just one. He’s pretty sure if long lost siblings were actually a thing Ashton would be his long lost brother or he’d sure fucking hope so; to be blunt. The rest of Luke’s day is less tears over math equations and more laughter and fun debate over how many times you have to say a word until it doesn’t sound like one anymore.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Two in the morning, sleep deprived Michael has begun constructing a list of things he’s good at because it’s been another stressful day and he needs to remind himself of good things and his good qualities. So far he’s come up with hair dyeing, talking, making taxi drivers cooperate, understanding Ed Sheeran’s complicated strumming patter9ns, keeping up with his mother like he did today via phone call and a few other things. Oh, and overthinking.

Usually when he gets all weird and his mind goes on hyper drive late at night it can be easily cured with about an hour or so of guitar playing but tonight his guitar seems so far away and he’s honestly just too lazy to get up and walk the ten feet and back. He thinks now would be a really convenient time to have a roommate or something; someone to talk about his day with and the stars. And by stars he means everyone’s inevitable death – okay, not really. Just someone to spew random bull shit to, maybe.

His mind wonders back to the call with his mum and how she sounded happy throughout the conversation but also sounded hopeful when asking about Michael’s job and if he’s doing anything new and a bit disappointed when he said no. He knows she doesn’t mean to be rude because she’s usually extremely supportive and that a decent amount of her negativity could be Michael’s amazing over analyzing skills so late at night but it’s still something that leaves him with an unsettling feeling. 

However, Michael knowing almost exactly what he wants to do with his life is an undescribible feeling of happiness and a shit ton of relief so it does help cancel the unsettling feeling out a bit. There's too much on his mind and he really just wants to go the fuck to sleep. 

He spends the rest of the night counting loose threads in his blanket and staring at his walls covered with posters and pieces of ripped paper from older signs he had up that wouldn’t come all the way off while making a mental note to yell at a certain coworker or two when they finally reappear again. When he wakes up the next day he’s less worried about pleasing his parents one-hundred percent and more pro-“do what makes you happy”. Also, pro-“stop burning your goddamn coffee on early work days”.

**Author's Note:**

> wow alright there's the first chapter !! sorry it's obscenely short but the other chapters will hopefully be longer ! but hi yes this is my new muke fic ahhh it's nice to meet you i'm lu and i haven't written a fic in like 8 billioin years so i'm really sorry if my writing is absolute shit and jumps around a lot, hopefully it'll get better. but yeah, this story most likely won't have any update schedule and it might update slowly sometimes bc life is all over the place {just like my writing lmaooo sorry} anddd yea !! also ive never uploaded on ao3 and im a lil nervous bc ive heard that some people can be super ://// but i hope ya like it c:


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